


So New, So Changed

by fightthosefairies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-it fic, Gen, Post 15x13 coda, Protective!Cas, Tumblr Fic, angelic branding, post-episode coda fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightthosefairies/pseuds/fightthosefairies
Summary: Post 15x13 coda.  Castiel can't just let the HunterCorp versions of Dean and Sam wander off with no money, no car, and no protection, so he takes it upon himself to track down the AU Winchesters and lend them a hand, as it were.
Relationships: Huntercorp!Dean Winchester & Castiel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	So New, So Changed

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this because Buckleming are garbage and dropped the ball, just like they always do.

Without their own vehicle, the Winchesters’ alternate universe doubles weren’t especially difficult to find. Once Dean and Sam had retired to their rooms, Castiel told Jack to keep an eye on things and to call if he needed anything, but didn’t breathe a word of where he was going or what he planned to do. He hated to keep secrets from Dean, but Dean hadn’t exactly left him a choice, this time.

That was how Castiel wound up following the soft, bronze glow of the second brightest soul he’d ever encountered to the Shady View Motor Lodge, just off the highway. He parked his Lincoln and got out, eyes scanning the neat line of guest rooms, all of the other parking spaces empty, save for the one nearest the office. The trailing traces the other Dean’s soul left in its wake disappeared through the door of room number 3. The lights inside were out, the curtains pulled tightly closed.   
  
Giving the lock a brief tweak with a tendril of his grace, he slipped into the room silently, only to feel the air knocked from his lungs at the sight that greeted him. Another Dean and Sam, so similar and yet...

  
Much like the Dean and Sam _he_ knew, they each had taken a queen bed for themselves, but their sleeping positions were very different from those he’d come to know as characteristic of the brothers from this world. The second Sam, with the upper portion of his hair scraped back into a ponytail, lay curled up with his pillow, a soft smile shaping his lips. For some reason, he was still wearing his scarf.  
  
Just like the Dean of Castiel’s own universe, this other Dean slept in the bed closest to the door, determined even in sleep to be what a monster would have to go through, first, to get to his younger brother. Not so very different from the Dean in his universe, then. This Dean’s hair, on the other hand, was combed neat and flat, without any of the softly ruffled spikes he was so accustomed to seeing. Leaning forward, Castiel narrowed his eyes as he studied the dusting of freckles across Dean’s face - even those, somehow, were different.   
  
The other Dean was sleeping shirtless beneath the covers, his right hand tucked up underneath the pillow while the other rested lightly on his stomach as he slept. Unlike the Dean he knew, this Dean’s face wasn’t pinched in distress from nightmares - of hell, of death, of all the people he’d lost, all the people he felt he’d failed, of all the guilt he shoveled up onto his own shoulders every day. There was no sheen of perspiration on his forehead from the night terrors, his hand loose and relaxed as it rested on his stomach. There was the anti-possession tattoo on his left breast, that much was still the same, but a glance at his shoulder revealed not even a residual hint of angelic grace - neither a scar nor the energy traces that would have been left behind if it had been healed over. This Dean had never been to hell, had never been rescued from it by an angel...  
  
Which reminded him why he’d decided to try to track them both down in the first place.  
  
Stepping closer to the bed, Cas spread the fingers of his right hand, ever so lightly resting the tips of them against Dean’s chest. He did his best to keep the touch of his grace light and gentle, but it was difficult with his powers slowly petering out. Many years previous, he’d done this to the brothers and, in his haste, had caused them both pain, but he wasn’t exactly as powerful as he used to be, anymore, either. As long as he didn’t rush, the discomfort would be relatively minor and they would remain asleep. He carefully scribed fresh runes on the other Dean’s ribs and then moved to the bed next to his to repeat the process with Sam.   
  
Mission completed, Cas straightened and moved to the door, casting a quick glance at the two of them over his shoulder as he let himself out of the room, locking it behind him with a brush of grace against the knob as he went. His boots crunched on the gravel as he made his way back to his car, but just as his fingers were brushing the handle of the driver side door, he heard the sound of a door snicking open behind him, and a soft gasp.   
  
“I knew it! I knew I wasn’t dreaming,” Dean gasped, sounding more exhilarated than pissed off. He’d clearly woken up and scrambled out of bed almost as immediately as Cas had left, his breathing ragged and quick as he leaned against the door. “You were -- you were just -- _who are you?_ ”  
  
Hearing Dean say those words to him stung in a way Cas hadn’t expected it would, which made no sense, because this wasn’t the Dean he knew. So it _shouldn’t_ matter. But...   
  
Sighing to himself, Cas let his hand drop back down to his side and he turned to meet Dean’s eyes. Somehow, those were exactly the same - the same color, but there was an openness and a vulnerability there that was utterly alien to Castiel. Dean was clad in a pair of black boxers covered in a chic gold and navy blue paisley pattern, his feet bare, stacks of intricately beaded bracelets bunched up on his wrists, and a thin gold chain around his throat.   
  
It seemed that Dean was looking just as deeply into his eyes at the same time, and his mouth fell open, bobbing wordlessly for a second before he finally licked his lips and spoke. “If you were here to hurt us, you would have done it already,” he said quietly, his hand straying to his chest. “But m-my chest hurts. Was that you?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel replies. “I etched protective sigils onto your ribs. You and your brother are now shielded from anything that might try to search you out.”  
  
Dean’s eyes went round and white like diner plates and his hands patted at his chest, almost as though he might be able to feel them with his bare hands. “Golly! Are you a witch?”   
  
Cas huffed out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No. I’m an angel.”  
  
His eyebrows shot up and he looked surprised, but somehow still excited. “Oh! Hey! Other Sam was telling us about God? How he watches you guys? I guess -- I guess that means you’re on their side? The other Sam and Dean?”  
  
Castiel’s smile was small, but warm. “Yes. Yes, I am.” His eyes slanted off to one side, towards the office and then back to Dean, who was still gazing at him with such ... awe, it was becoming uncomfortable. His hands remained hanging uselessly at his sides, fingers curling around the edges of his trenchcoat. “I don’t have any money I can give you, o-or a car, but I knew I could do this much. That I had to do this.”  
  
“But hey, wait a second - you’re an angel... but you drive a Lincoln Continental?” Dean said with a soft laugh. He looked confused, but determined, somehow - like he still wanted to understand. Castiel had sneaked into his room in the middle of the night like a common ‘creeper,’ as _his Dean_ would say, yet this Dean still wanted to be on Castiel’s side, that much was clear.  
  
The man standing before him couldn’t be more unlike the Dean Winchester he knew if he’d been a completely different person altogether. Because, for all intents and purposes, that’s precisely what he was.   
  
“It’s a long story, but yes,” he replied, letting his grace flood into his eyes, allowing Dean to see the truth of his words for himself.   
  
Once again, Dean’s eyes went wide, both of his hands straying up to cover his mouth in astonishment. “Ohholycow,” he breathed. “You’re so -- I mean -- other Dean said a friend had helped to bring us back into this universe, so I ... I guess that was you?”  
  
Castiel nodded wordlessly, the grace draining away from his eyes, leaving them their usual rainy day blue.  
  
Dean drew his hands from his mouth, biting his lower lip, hands tucked just beneath his chin. “He didn’t even tell us your name,” he whispered.   
  
“My name is Castiel, but you -- uhh, other Dean, as you say -- he calls me Cas,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling a fraction.   
  
“He must really like you,” he said with a smile that was soft and easy, but a bit conspiratorial, too. Like he was sharing a particularly delicious secret.   
  
“Well, I have to say our meeting has gone quite differently compared to when I met the Dean from this world for the first time,” Cas replied, a hint of wryness to his words. On Dean’s puzzled look, he explained: “The first time I met Dean, he stabbed me in the chest.”  
  
Dean gasped, his right hand settling on his own chest, and somehow - Cas isn’t sure how - his palm lands on the exact spot where the blade had gone in.   
  
_Square in the heart, driven to the hilt without a moment of hesitation - striking like a killer, fighting like someone taking the only shot they thought they had, so afraid but even more afraid not to at least **try**. But the blade with its anti-demonic sigils didn’t mean anything, couldn’t do anything to him that he couldn’t repair with a thought. He faced Dean, then, fingers curling around that bone blade and tugged it free, letting it drop harmlessly to the ground.   
  
This man had already been hurt in Hell - he would not raise a hand to retaliate, if he could help it. He could see the alarm and confusion blaring out at him from the Righteous Man - that the knife was useless, that it didn’t do anything, that he had no idea what Castiel would do to him, mind jumping from one thought to the other to the next, all swirling around one core question: ‘what the hell is this thing?’. _  
  
“You two are... about as different as two people could be, who ... happen to be the same person,” Cas muttered, frowning a bit. Donatello was right; nothing they ever did was ever _**not**_ complicated.   
  
The tension in Dean’s shoulders melted away, then, and he let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “Yes, this is a ... a very unique situation my darling brother and I find ourselves in, now, to be sure,” he agreed, fingers rucking up some of the hair at the back of his head. After a moment, his smile faded and he lowered his hand, eyes straying back to Castiel. “Will I see you again?” He asked softly.   
  
“It’s probably better if you don’t,” Castiel replied, his own voice just as hushed, an apologetic purr. “Better for you, and Sam. Safer.”  
  
“But what if I _want_ to see you again?” Dean said, taking another half-step forward, out of his room, his forearm resting against the door, keeping it open.   
  
Castiel stared at him wordlessly for so long, he almost forgot where they were for a moment.   
  
“Dean... why would you want that? You -- we don’t know each other,” he said, words matter-of-fact, but his tone not unkind.   
  
“Why did you come here in the middle of the night to try to protect me and my brother?” Dean countered with a shrug and another one of those criminally carefree smiles. “If you know the answer, maybe you could tell me?”  
  
In spite of himself, Castiel felt his heartbeat speed up and he averted his eyes. “I -- my apologies, I must be going --” he began, angling his body towards the Lincoln, shoulders drawing up.   
  
“No, hey -- no, hey, Castiel - just -- just wait, okay?” Dean sputtered as he darted back into the motel room. He emerged a moment later, dropping one of his obscenely expensive shoes in the doorway to keep it open and all but leaping over to him, hissing and ‘ouch!’ing as he power-walked his way across the gravel. “Here. This is the phone number at this motel. You can just call us here, if you want. Sam and I are getting our resources together to see if we can find our father. We’re still here for the next few days, while we acquire cellphones and secure documentation out of the country. Just please... please promise you’ll call and we can talk more, sometime?”  
  
Castiel’s fingers closed around the tiny piece of paper Dean had pressed into his hand and he lifted it up, eyes scanning Dean’s own name and the phone number of the motel on a piece of bland motel stationary with owls all over it. “I don’t understand,” he said, frowning a bit as he looked up at Dean. “Why do you want to talk to me? You don’t even know me.”  
  
“Because maybe... right now, all I have in the world is my brother and I, and...” Dean trailed off, swallowing with effort as he looked away, his eyes brightening with tears. “Other me clearly trusts you and I -- I feel better? When you’re here? I don’t -- I don’t know why.” He lets out a nervous laugh, his arms winding around himself, he scratches idly at his left shoulder. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, to wake and find a strange man in your motel room and find he doesn’t _feel_ that strange? I -- I should have been _horrified_ , I should have been anything, anything but... this.”   
  
It’s at that moment that Castiel realizes that he’ll do just about anything to make sure this Dean and Sam are safe and protected. As safe and protected as two Winchesters can be in this universe, with Chuck breathing down all of their necks.  
  
Castiel folds the piece of paper and tucks it into the pocket of his suit jacket, close to his heart. “I’ll do what I can, try to find you and your brother more provisions. The bunker is packed full of weapons and we always have more than enough to spare, so --”  
  
“Oh, thank you,” Dean broke in warmly, reaching out to clasp Castiel’s shoulder. “Really, Castiel, we can’t thank you enough for your help.”   
  
Castiel glanced down at where Dean’s hand rested on his shoulder and then back up at him, offering him a small, tight smile. “Of course,” he said softly. “But you should go inside, now. You should sleep and you don’t want to wake your brother.”  
  
Dean stepped back with a sheepish expression, hissing a little under his breath from the stabby gravel underfoot. “When you’re right, you’re right, and you are right, my friend,” he said, gingerly tip-toeing and limping his way up onto the sidewalk. He stopped and glanced back at Castiel as he scooped up his shoe from where it was wedging the door. “It was nice meeting you, Castiel,” he offered quietly, smiling as he inched his way back into the room.  
  
“Please, Dean. Call me Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the fics I created just for my SPN Tumblr fam. Feel free to stop by and say hey! You can also find alllll of my SPN meta over there, which informs a lot of the writing you'll see here: https://rogueangelshunter.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also - kudos are wonderful and lovely and much appreciated, but comments keep me well-fed and motivated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D


End file.
